The Cowboy
Your hair is the meadow grass
Your eyes the big sky
The lines carved on your face
Speak the cruelty of the place
You call home
The saddle formed your stance
Ropes, your calloused hands
Your quiet confidence tells me
Of months spent on the prairie
All alone
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
